


Selvedge

by Justamanlymouse



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Introspection, M/M, Stony - Freeform, steve rogers knitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 23:01:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13223052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justamanlymouse/pseuds/Justamanlymouse
Summary: Selvedge - The raw edge of a piece of knitted fabric.Steve Rogers lets his mind wander over his and Tony's relationship as he works on knitting Tony's Christmas present.





	Selvedge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cap Iron Man Community](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Cap+Iron+Man+Community).



> A fill for the following 2017 Holiday Exchange: Community Prompts: Steve, being an old-timey soldier from before current gender norms, knits.
> 
> Thanks to [SoftObsidian74](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftObsidian74) and [QueenoftheRandomWorld42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenoftheRandomWord42) for betaing

It was soothing - the quiet clank of needles striking each other as his fingers deftly moved yarn forward and back, forward and back. When he stares at his hands it almost feels like he is back then.  Not that it was some adorable picturesque time, but nostalgia is still a powerful drug.

Knit two, purl two, knit two, purl two. Again and again, his mind wandering as his hands worked expertly. This is what he would be doing, if it happened the way it was supposed to, if man hadn’t decided to play God.  Of course, if that were the way things went, he wouldn’t be knitting for Tony at all. 

Reality. Details. Unimportant. 

Their house would smell like asthma cigarettes and scotch.  Tony would have had enough money that Steve would have a room just for his drawings.  Tony would wear a labcoat and the most charming glasses that Steve would push up his nose before they kissed. This Christmas present would be just as unnecessary then as it is now, but Tony wouldn’t find it as strange.  There would be significantly less mocking. 

If Steve wants to think about anything practically, his relationship with Tony wouldn’t be like that at all.  It would be hidden and full of whispers and lies and fast heartbeats.  Not like the lust filled ones that all but consume him now, but ones driven by fear.  They would live in Brooklyn instead of upstate, and hardly ever leave that little safe haven.  Steve would be dead by 30, and Tony would never reach his potential, having given it all up for the chance to be fucked by the smallest man he’s ever met.  

Shit.  He dropped a stitch. He frowns and backs up, counting his last row.  He knows how this will go, now, in this strange current world that he’s trying the best he can to make his.  He will hand this gift to Tony, who will laugh.  It would have been hurtful, insulting even, if it happened earlier in their relationship.  Now Steve will see the twinkling eyes behind the harsh words, and he will tease Tony just as much when he wears it.  Only Tony Stark would be proud to wear a handmade sweater representing the superhero that he is, of all things.  There aren’t many quite like him.  

He is dreading sewing all the last bits together.  When he was young he used to get his Ma to do that part. His hands are even larger now and not nearly as deft as they used to be. It took him nearly a month just to learn to hold knitting needles without breaking them, much less a yarn needle. 

His Ma would have hated Tony, he thinks.  Not because of the being a man thing, he doesn’t think that Sarah Rogers had the capacity to be shocked by anything quite like that.  Just because Tony’s… Tony.  She imagined Steve with someone sweet and gentle.  Caring and doting.  Probably Catholic. A replacement for her, though she’d never say it quite like that. 

Tony was all of those things, in exactly the way that Steve needed him to be.  There was just no way he would have been able to convince his Ma of that. He thinks that if he could have finally managed to explain everything properly, she would have at least been happy that he was happy.  That still wouldn’t have amounted to the motherly warmth that she was capable of, though. 

The most important thing for Steve is that Tony doesn’t treat him like he’s broken, mentally or otherwise. He doesn’t think he would have back then, either.  He would hire Doctor’s with treatments than Steve had heard of, and he would have done all he could to help, but Tony would never treat him like he was fragile.  Tony trusted that Steve knew himself better than anyone else did. No one else ever seemed to think that.

Knit two, purl two, knit two, purl two. Steve had never felt anything like what he feels now before Tony all but forced that happiness and the ownership of his own life down his throat. So much of Steve’s two worlds were filled with obligation. Duty. Survival.  He’s learning to let go.  Tony’s helping.

“I’m in the mood for you,” is one of Tony’s favorite things to say before they have sex.  It’s a strange sentiment, but it makes his heart warm. He’s sure if those words were said to him back then they would have offended him - as though they only do things when Tony’s in the mood.  He knows now that it means something very different.  It’s Tony’s way of saying he can feel it.  Feel the need and want and lust that makes bodies pressing together beautiful instead of awkward. 

That isn’t to say loving Tony isn’t work sometimes. Steve has never yelled at anyone like he yells at him.  Guttural and loud and with so much frustration in his voice that it cracks sometimes.  Tony pushes glasses off the counter and Steve doesn’t even bother to contain his strength when his fist goes down onto and through the coffee table as he tries to make his point. 

It probably sound horrible to other people, but he’s never felt so free in his life - and Tony has never let them go to sleep angry.  Granted, sometimes that means there’s two and a half pots of coffee in their systems before they finally crash, but it works.  They’re honest.  Tony knows him. He’s pretty sure he knows Tony too.

He hates decreasing stitches.  He always pulls just a little too tight and the whole thing starts to wrinkle or he breaks the yarn.  His lips get terse as he focuses on not ruining his work. He did this for hours now, these new awkward fingers at least letting him continue on, where the old ones would have given into the ache of early arthritis long before now.  It was the part of him that felt most like an old man - this need for quiet, the comfort in reminiscing. The part of his brain that lost the ability to live in the moment. The part that wonders.

He wonders if Tony thinks about these things like he does. Not that Tony has any reason to - he’s not the one outside of time.  Even just thinking about the two of them together, he wasn’t sure Tony ever did that.  It seems so simple for him, as if it were inevitable. Existing around each other was just what they did, because they wanted to and that was that. When Tony first asked him out, Steve turned him down.  Their lives weren’t in the right place to be in relationships.  They probably never would be.  They had responsibilities.

“Look.  I’m not okay.  I might never be okay, and you.  You are definitely not as okay as you’d like to be.  So - here’s my proposition.  We stop trying to pretend we’re fine and important and just act like normal fucking people for once.  People who are messed up but don’t let that stop them from doing shit that makes them feel good. What I’m saying is this. Talking to you feels good.  I propose we do it more. Over food.  Then hopefully naked. Or both. With food while naked.”  

It wasn’t the most romantic of beginnings, but it’s the most honest one he’s ever had. Turns out that Steve’s not much of a romantic.  Or if he is, that looks very different than he once thought it would. 

He sets his needles down, laying the fabric he created down on the coffee table, stretching and pulling at its edges gently, just to make sure it was coming on the way he wanted it to.  Is this love, he wonders? This mess of emotions that motivates him to do something as intimate as creating the fabric that will touch Tony’s chest when he cannot. It must be.  It wasn’t born of anything good, but he thinks Tony must be right - that just letting themselves be a little bit happy a little bit of the time is keeping them sane.  Keeping them okay.   Helping them survive.  They never talk about it, how Tony’s aging out of the game.  Steve sees him wince in the morning, watches him pop advil and look into creating his own knee replacement.  Neither of them talk about the fact that none of those things are happening to Steve.  That would ruin the happy. 

His hand runs up and down the rows. It wasn’t as good as his Ma could have done - the bumps of uneven stitches feel distinct as they catch on his fingers - but he is pretty damn proud of it nonetheless. He smiles, thinking about his head resting against this material when they watch TV.

He will start sewing it together tomorrow. That will be the real test of his abilities.  He has all the pieces now, and he’s ninety five percent sure that they’re going to fit together. 

“The Boss is… ‘entering the building’,” FRIDAY states - her tone managing to convey how unamused she is with Tony’s jokes, which makes Steve’s head hurt to think about too much. He stretches, cracking his neck and knuckles before putting all the pieces of the sweater back into his bag and stuffing it in the back of his closet.  He walks to the mini gym they have on the penthouse floor and easily punches at the bag hanging from the ceiling a few times, as though that’s what he has been doing this whole time.

“Welcome home, motherfucker,” he huffs out with a a lopsided smirk as Tony walks in the door. He rolls his eyes, pretending to be annoyed as he sees those beautiful eyes warm with lust and want and need and all the things that make bodies pressing together beautiful instead of awkward. 


End file.
